"Join me, or be devoured."
Vect, granted divine favor by the Black Muse, offered his kin one final choice. Watching their people be swallowed one by one by Slaanesh, the survivors of Commorragh had no room left to choose. In silence, they apologized to Isha, boarded the ancient Aeldari ark, and drifted with Vect into the pitch-black cosmos.
How did Vect know so many of Commorragh's secrets? What exactly was the new path he spoke of? No one knew why, but they all knew it was absolutely connected to Rakarth, the Haemonculus at Vect's side...
All of Commorragh knew that the Haemonculi no longer considered themselves Drukhari, but among the Haemonculi, Rakarth was the mad existence that made even the other Haemonculi's backs go cold.
So we had ended up with lunatics: a lunatic Archon, a lunatic Haemonculus, and no way back. Commorragh had become a playground for rampaging daemons...
Trembling, Rakarth screamed once again. "The second one! The second lifeline! The rift never opened! The Eye of Terror closed! The Imperium of Man escaped Chaos's assault. They wiped out the Orks, wiped out the Aeldari... and created a bloody Imperium of ignorance and fanaticism... I saw it! I saw humanity crushed by the Necrons again. They became livestock raised alongside the Tyranids..."
"The third! The third lifeline!" Rakarth was in even greater agony. The other heads beneath his own burst like lightbulbs overloaded by electric current. Psychic energy surged around him; forcibly observing the threads of fate was just as difficult for him. Though he had done this tens of thousands of times, he could even identify which Craftworld a bone came from, and which seer it had belonged to, merely by tasting the subtle differences as he chewed it.
"Quick, Rakarth! The third one!" Vect roared, urging Rakarth